


Misfit Ducks

by Ataraxetta, checkthemargins



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family feelings, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ataraxetta/pseuds/Ataraxetta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley Keener drops by Avengers Tower for a visit, and puts some things in perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misfit Ducks

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, man. I am not great at ensemble cast scenes but this has been bugging me for a bit so I got it down. I apologize in advance for how cheesy it is, and hope you enjoy! :)

Tony is a philanthropist and a snob, so while he's generously offered his fellow super heroes the homes he'd already built for them without their consent in Stark tower, and accepted—some might say coerced—them in one-by-one, he also judged every single one of them appropriately on their material goods. He's mostly unimpressed and often tells them so.

The latest initiate of chez Stark is Steve's wayward soldier. Tony is a little more lenient with him, because his head is really fucked up, but if nothing else Bucky's taste keeps things interesting. Tony can't pick up much from his interior design instincts, because Bucky lives with Steve, whose apartment is tidy and boring and smells like the pink spearmint candies he keeps in a bowl on his coffee table because he is actually an old grandpa--but Bucky's fashion sense is more obnoxious than most. 

Steve's wardrobe, at least, has made the important transition from nineteen forties chic straight into a J. Crew ad, which is preppy enough to make Tony grind his teeth but at least doesn't assault him with poly blend. For some reason—he's not quite sure why, could maybe've been the footage of a cyborg Russian nutjob kicking Captain America's ass, just maybe—Tony had expected Bucky's to include a lot of black. 

Instead he seems to have embraced his inner California surfer dude. He wears his jeans a little too long so they fray at the ends from dragging on the ground and has approximately nine hundred Henley shirts. When he's feeling cheeky it's cheap bright t-shirts, a few of which endearingly have a Captain America logo on them. He has several pairs of sunglasses that are impressively expensive, even by Tony's standards. He inexplicably has braided string bracelets on his right wrist and a chain with a ring around his neck. He wears flip-flops. He is a fashion enigma.

One Tuesday around lunch time, he walks downstairs to the entrance of Tony's shop in jeans and a bright blue Spider-Man t-shirt (Bucky likes Spider-Man. Says he's funny. Tony had enough tact not to ask if the Winter Soldier ever learned Spidey's real identity for around a week and a half until he blurted the question out in the middle of a sparring session. Bucky said no. Tony's not sure if he believes him). He's got his hair pulled back into a ponytail, shorter bits at the front loose and wispy around his face in an unfairly alluring manner. Natasha does that too. Must be a Russian assassin seduction technique. Highly skilled. Highly weaponized. Tony sits there staring at him until Dum-E, which has rolled up next to him, idly plucks at Tony's shirt and he has to smack him away. Bucky frowns at the catch of the still-closed glass door.

"You locked me out?"

"It's tough love, ducky. The only way you'll learn. Are you wearing shoes?" He has a strict closed-toed shoe policy in his workshop that Bucky blatantly ignores every single time, so Tony finally installed a safelock. Bucky pulls one of his feet up so Tony can see it over his workbench. Slick brown leather boots are totally allowed. "You can let him in, Jarvis."

"Very good, Sir. Welcome, Mr. Barnes."

"Yup," says Bucky.

"I like your boots, man," Tony tells him honestly, standing up and cleaning his hands off with a grease rag.

"Well, they're yours, so." Bucky shrugs, and Bruce several yards away at his own workbench snorts audibly. Tony ignores him. Bruce doesn't know anything. Bruce shops from the clearance rack at Sears. Tony studies the supple leather of the boots carefully, trying to remember if he has anything like them in his closet. He really likes them, so there's a good chance. Bucky blinks enigmatically and wiggles his toes in his boots. Tony's going to be very paranoid about this for a long time, he can already feel it.

"How are you, Bucky?" Bruce asks, and Bucky slips past Tony and further into the shop.

"Good, Doc. You?"

"I'm doin' all right, thanks. C'mon back and have a seat." Bruce has his own lab but for obvious reasons Bucky prefers Tony's workshop, so they've carved out a place in the middle of the room where he comes down once a month to let Bruce check his eyes, which require special contact lenses because years of cryo have left them painfully sensitive to light. Bruce leads Bucky to his usual chair and Bucky drops down comfortably. "I think I've found a solution that won't irritate your eyes so much."

"Maybe won't look like I've been crying all the time," Bucky says.

Maybe, Tony thinks, but that's sort of a thing, Bucky crying. Steve crying because Bucky's crying. It's a thing they do. Not as much as when Bucky first arrived and totally understandable, but still embarrassing and something that Tony likes to point out as often as possible.

He wanders back over to his workbench where his suit is laid out, software updating. There's not much to do while he waits and it's a little nerve wracking, anyway, two of the world's most dangerous right here together, so he turns on some music, opens a drawer, pulls out a gourmet lollypop from the box Pepper brought him back from Switzerland last week and unwraps it, loping over to Bruce and Bucky. Bucky's just finished taking his contacts out, and Bruce makes him tilt his head back so he can shine a red light into his eyes. Tony makes an obnoxious slurping sound around his candy and watches Bucky's pupils dilate.

"Jarvis, let's run a new scan," he says.

Bruce turns away to write something down and Bucky gives Tony a pitying sort of look and holds still as the program wraps around his bionic arm.

"It is in perfect working order, sir. No maintenance necessary," Jarvis says, and Tony sighs unhappily, tapping his lollypop against his bottom lip.

"Boring. Why don't you go out and get that thing a little broken already, kiddo?"

"I'm all good, thanks," Bucky says. Tony catches sight of a bruise over his collarbone and wiggles his eyebrow. "Yeah, I'll bet you are, aren't you?" he asks, tugging the neck of Bucky's shirt away so he can see it better. Bucky seems more than willing to show it off. "Pretty good, yeah." 

"Huh. You know I've always wondered, with that serum," Tony starts, "since you knew him before. Did it make him bigger everywhere?" He grabs himself, in case Bucky doesn't get the implication.

"You're kind of a dick," Bucky tells him.

"There's no kind of about it," Tony agrees with a smile. "Can I touch it?"

"Steve's prick?" Bucky drawls coyly. "You should know better than to ask that, Tonio."

"Your arm, jackass."

Bucky looks smug, but he nods. "Knock yourself out."

Tony likes the feel of it, slick and warm and pretty under his hand, and the idea of caressing another man's bionic arm turns him on a little. Before he can do more than pull up a chair, though, Bruce nudges him in the back.

"You can grope him later. Here, Bucky, give these a shot." He hands Bucky a new contacts case and makes Tony hold a mirror. Bucky uses his metal index finger to put the new lenses in (Tony's breath catch in his throat hotly), and then blinks a few times.

"Turn the lights back up?"

"Jarvis?" says Tony. The workshop lights flicker on completely, and Bucky looks straight into the one directly above him.

"Good?" Bruce asks.

"Yeah, they're good. Car hardly feel 'em, too." He grins at Bruce. "Thanks."

"We'll see how long that lasts," Bruce says, because he's a little self-deprecating all the time. Needs hugs, that Bruce Banner does. So many hugs.

"Sir, Miss Potts is approaching with—"

"This is so cool!" a young voice cuts Jarvis off.

"—Harley Keener, sir."

Tony perks up like a meerkat, confused, but Harley's already through the door and looking around the workshop in suitable awe.

"What?" says Tony, approaching Pepper.

"It's Saturday the twenty-forth," she says. She looks great, in an a-line dress and heels. "I reminded you yesterday. Repeatedly."

"It's not still yesterday?"

"Can I touch this?" says Harley from somewhere.

"No," Tony answers, and rolls his eyes when there's a small crash and Harley says, "Oops. Sorry."

"I'm taking Ms. Keener and her daughter out to see the city," says Pepper.

"What?" Tony says again, frowning. "No, no, sorry, not a good idea. This is a very dangerous area. No kids allowed."

"You seem to do all right down here," Pepper says, and Tony pretends to laugh.

"Aha, funny. You're funny."

"I know." 

She looks smug, and happy. Tony loves her a lot. "I can't babysit. It's me. He could get hurt."

Pepper pats Tony's cheek. "I think he can handle you better than most," she says, and then smiles over his shoulder. "Hi Dr. Banner, Bucky."

There's a chorus of quiet hellos. Tony sticks his candy into his cheek and puts his hands on Pepper's waist, pulls her in for a kiss. "Are you sure you don't wanna stay? We're playing what'll he do next. I've got fifty bucks on manly tears."

"Fuck you, Stark," Bucky calls, and Tony smiles at Pepper.

"I really can't stay. But you boys have fun. Don't blow anything up while I'm gone." She pauses. "Or when I get back."

"I'll do my best."

She kisses his cheek, and then calls, "Bye, Harley! Your mom and I will be back at eight-thirty."

"Bye!" Harley calls distractedly. Tony has no idea where he is. Even after Pepper's left and he turns around to look for him.

"Kid? Kid." He finds Harley over by Dum-E, tilting his head as Dum-E tilts his claw.

"What's it do?"

"He."

Harley gives him a judging look. "What's he do?"

"Nothing," Tony says, and Dum-E droops. "Actually nothing. All day every day, just nothing. He holds the fire extinguisher."

"Why would you need—"

"I start a lot of fires, sometimes, accidentally. It's not a big deal. He saved my life once."

Harley lifts an eyebrow. "From a fire?"

Tony gives him a bewildered look. "What? No, of course not. Come over here, meet the doc." He steers Harley over to Bruce and Bucky, who are talking casually, apparently done with the check up. Bruce is leaning against his workbench with his arms crossed, and Bucky's still slumped comfortably in the foldout chair. Tony gestures with his lollypop. "This is Bruce Banner."

Bruce gives Harley a nod and a quiet grin, shaking his hand. "Hey, Harley, nice to meet you."

"I thought your voice would be deeper," says Harley.

"I get that a lot."

Harley grins at him, and then turns to Bucky, who's paying more attention than Tony's ever seen him pay anything but Steve. Not that there are ever that many around, but Bucky's kind of a disaster around kids. He spent seventy years being brainwashed and abused and used as a machine gun and the one thing he doesn't trust in the world is children. Tony doesn't even know what to do with that.

"I don't know you," Harley tells Bucky. "I haven't seen you on TV. You weren't in New York."

Bucky frowns. "I'm in New York right now."

Harley gives an exasperated kind of laugh. "You know what I mean. With the aliens and the wormhole." He gives Tony a curious look, like he's waiting for Tony to have a panic attack. He brings it up every time he visits, like a test. Tony sticks his tongue out at him.

"This is Bucky," he says. "Cap's boyfriend. This is Harley Keener, little duck."

Harley hums thoughtfully. "My uncle has a boyfriend."

Tony says, "Yeah?"

Harley nods. "Yeah. He doesn't look like you, though," he tells Bucky.

Bucky tilts his head at him, genuine curiosity all over his face. "So how old are you, like six?"

"I'm twelve!" Harley says, offended.

"Hm," says Bucky, like he doesn't believe him.

Harley rubs at his nose. "What happened to your arm?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Bucky says. Harley stares impolitely, and Bucky shuffles his feet uncomfortably. "I lost it in the war."

"In the...wait. Bucky. _Bucky_. As in Bucky Barnes?" He looks at Tony like Tony's betrayed him. "You never told me that!"

"Don't sass me, kid," says Tony. "I have secrets. Even from you."

"Liar."

Tony makes a fish face at him, ignoring Bruce who's completely failing to hold back a smile. Harley ignores them both in favor of Bucky, who he seems much more fond of suddenly. "You fell off a train in the mountains."

"I remember," Bucky says.

"I saw it in a documentary. Where it happened, I mean. How'd you survive?"

Bucky doesn't answer, clearly at a loss in the face of Harley's candor. When Sam's nieces visited the first time Bucky spent the better part of four days being chased around the tower turning down marriage proposals. Kids are great. They find the one person who likes them the least and cling on like barnacles. It's mostly hilarious, when it's happening to someone who isn't Tony.

"He froze," Tony says, which is close enough. "Like Cap."

Harley hums. "Coincidence, that happening twice. And to, y'know, best friends. Boyfriends. Are you really boyfriends?"

Bucky looks like he doesn't quite understand the question. After a long time spent considering it, he says, "Steve is mine." 

Tony looks at Bruce, who toasts him with a glass of whatever noxious health thing he's drinking.

"Your arm is really cool," Harley tells Bucky, pointing. Bucky's metal fingers twitch and he turns his wrist, panels shifting prettily all the way up his arm as it recalibrates. "It doesn't even make any noise. Tony's suit makes noise. Like, whirs. And clicks, and stuff." He looks at Tony. "His arm doesn't make any noise."

Tony flicks him in the ear. "So what?"

"Does it come off?"

"No, it's soldered and bolted onto his spine."

"Did you make it?"

Tony frowns darkly. No, he didn't. Anton Vanko did, apparently, and it's good. Painfully, really, really good. Marvelous, really, the functionality Bucky has with it, the sensitivity, Bucky's nervous system accepting it as though flesh and blood. Not something Tony would have thought of, and most likely better than one he could make, even now, and he's still sore as hell about it.

"No," a voice answers from so close that Tony almost pisses himself. He whips his head around to regard Natasha, who smiles serenely and looks at Harley. "He didn't."

"What the fuck, Rushman?" Tony asks her weakly, heart still pounding. He hates being snuck up on.

"Language, Tony," Bruce says, giving Harley an apologetic look. "Child present."

"I've heard a lot worse," says Harley. He's looking Natasha up and down in a totally not age appropriate manner. "Hi."

"Hey," says Natasha.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asks again. "Aren't you supposed to be in South Africa?"

"I got back last night," Natasha says. "Heard your kid was here. Can't blame a girl for being curious."

"He's not _my_ kid," Tony says.

"We're connected," Harley tells her seriously.

Natasha smirks, and says something in Russian to Bucky, who says something back that makes her laugh. She has a giant hickey on her neck when she pushes her hair behind her ear, like it's mark your favorite Soviet assassin day or something.

"Did Barton's mouth get stuck?" Tony asks.

Natasha lifts one perfect eyebrow. "Not there."

Tony covers Harley's ears. "Whoa, hey! Child present!"

Harley frowns. "I don't get it."

"Good," says Tony. "We need to get you outta here."

"Don't bother," Natasha says, pulling up another chair so she can sit down. Harley grabs one too and puts it next to hers, blushing when she smiles at him again. "The others are on their way down."

"What? Why?"

Natasha shrugs, and turns away to start up a conversation with Bruce about what happened in South Africa that Tony doesn't care about. Tony touches Bucky's bionic arm, to make himself feel better, and Bucky watches Harley distrustfully as he starts asking Bruce a million and one questions about the Hulk.

One by one, the rest of the team make their way downstairs, all with worse excuses than the last. Clint wanders in pretending to need a new line for his bow and takes a seat on Harley's other side, resting his arm across the back of Harley's chair so he can play with Natasha's hair. Thor is next, and he overacts his apparent surprise, a hand on his chest and eyes wide.

"Forgive me, I didn't realize there was a gathering. I would not wish to interrupt, I only came to see if you would finally give me a tour of your workshop, Tony."

"Oh my God," Harley whispers excitedly. 

Tony stares at Thor, who notices and smiles dashingly. Tony jabs a finger at him. "You've never wanted a tour of my workshop. Not once. Ever. Even when I offered. I seem to remember something about boring mortal tools and limited human capacity for mechanics."

Thor ignores him. "Oh, there's someone new," he says, and walks over to kneel in front of a star struck Harley. "You must be young Harley! We've heard stories of your strength and bravery when Iron Man was in need of both. A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Oh, uh, yeah. I was. It was nothing," says Harley. His head is going to be like, huge, by the time his mom picks him up. Thor finds another chair and sits down next to Bucky, greeting him loudly, as Sam saunters in. 

"Falcon," Tony says dryly.

"What's up, Tony?"

"D'you need something?"

"Nah, just came to meet your kid."

"He's not _my kid!_ "

Harley shakes Sam's hand and gestures to Tony. "We're connected."

"Yeah, man, I know," says Sam. "How's it goin'? Having fun?"

"I mean, it's all right," says Harley, shrugging his shoulders casually like the amazing little bastard that he is. "Just hanging out with the Avengers. No big deal."

"I know what you mean, bud." Sam claps him on the shoulder and stands up, stretching, and turns Bucky. "Hey there, Ricochet. Your eyes okay?"

Bucky is more comfortable around Sam than he is everyone else but Steve. He offers a genuine smile and flicks his hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, all good. Doc got me fixed up. Where's Steve?"

"Hell if I know," Sam shrugs. "He went for a run after the VA meeting."

"Really?" Harley asks, frowning, and they all look at him. He makes a disappointed face. "I mean, no offense or anything, but meeting Captain America is kind of the reason I'm here."

Tony bristles. "Oh, really? Cause I kind of thought you were here to see me."

"I can see you any time," Harley shrugs. "We're con—"

"I will lock you in a bathroom. Don't test me," says Tony.

"Besides," Harley says. "I just want his autograph. You're the one with the giant crush on him."

Tony is so offended he doesn't even know how to respond. "A giant—I do _not_ have a crush on—"

"You do," Harley says. "Great big Grand Canyon sized crush on Captain American. I still have your email from when he moved in here. Do you want me to show—"

"No, I don't," Tony says loudly, ignoring the others laughing at him. He does spare a glance at Bucky, who's straight-faced and regarding Tony with much more interest than Tony's entirely comfortable with, and then turns to Harley again. "You're a little asshole, you know that?"

Harley bares his teeth in a cheeky grin.

When Steve does finally arrive nearly an hour later, he's freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a red sweater. As one, the entire group of them turn to look at him and he falters, blinking, a deer in headlights. "Um. Hey? Did I...Is something going on?"

Clint snorts, and Tony hefts a huge sigh, the others laughing. "You're not here to meet Harley, Cap?" Bruce asks. Steve pushes his hands into his pockets as he walks over.

"I didn't know Harley was here," he says, smiling at Harley, who's all lit up and speechless. "Heya, Harley. Nice to meet you."

Harley makes an unintelligible noise that sounds like _hnnfuh?_ Steve gives him a mildly concerned look, and when Harley doesn't say anything else he clears his throat politely and addresses Bruce. "Hey, Doc. Bucky's not home. Everything go okay?"

Tony nudges Natasha with his shoulder until she grabs his hand and squeezes until he squeaks. 

"He's fine," Bruce says.

"He just stepped out to the little soldier's room," Tony tells Steve, shaking his hand out. On cue, Bucky rounds the corner from the other side of the shop. He's taken his goddamn shoes off. Tony's gonna kill him. "Little duck!" he calls instead, smirking when Bucky answers to it, lifting his head. "Look who's here."

Bucky's already on it though, eyes landing on Steve and face lighting up in a big dopey smile. Steve big dopey smiles back at him, and takes one hand out of his pocket to wave like an idiot. They're not huge on the PDA but it's so obvious that they're going to be tearing each other's clothes off and whispering sweet things in each other's ear later that they might as well be doing it right here. Bucky crosses over to the circle again, brushing his shoulder past Steve's chest as he sits back down. Thor shifts over so Steve can pull up a chair between them.

"How come you call him that?" Harley asks. Tony's too busy staring at the sleek, sexy shift of Bucky's bionic arm to realize he's being spoken to until Natasha elbows him in the side.

"What?" Tony asks.

"Little duck," says Harley, making a face. He's got one of the gauntlets of Tony's suit in his lap and Tony has no idea how or when he got it, can't even think of an admonition he's so impressed. Harley points it at him. "You've called him that twice."

"God, here we go," Sam says, rolling his eyes, and Tony offers an innocent smile.

"Well you see, kid, Bucky got lost a while ago and followed Steve back here like the precious baby duckling that he is."

Bucky flips him off, like he's not hooking his foot behind Steve's ankle as they speak. Harley's too distracted by the gauntlet to see but Tony is offended on his behalf anyway. "I had a duckling once," he says.

Thor looks around at them all doubtfully. "Is that a usual house pet for a Midgardian boy?"

"No," Bruce, Tony, Sam and Clint say at the same time.

"He was a class pet when I was in second grade, and I got to take him home after. His name was Jeffrey."

"That's a stupid name for a duck," says Tony. 

"Whatever, Iron Man," Harley says. "Anyway, when Jeffrey grew up mom said we couldn't keep him, because he was making a mess, and we tried to take him to a pond and introduce him to some other ducks, but he like, chased us back to the car."

"I don't like stories with dead animals," Natasha says, and it sounds mild and also like a warning.

"She doesn't, man," Clint says. "I've gotta screen movies for her before she'll watch 'em. Don't tell us the duck died."

"No, he didn't die! Don't worry, I wouldn't do that to you," Harley says, taking Natasha's hand boldly in both his own. Tony's a little proud. "See, what happened is, since my mom didn't want to like drive away with a duck chasing after us and y'know, scar me for life, we took him to this animal sanctuary."

"That was very noble of her," says Thor, looking deeply invested in this story.

"Yeah, sure," Harley agrees, fiddling with Tony's gauntlet again. "So anyway, we took him, and they told us that what they do when there's an only duck like that, is they introduce it to other kind of misfit ducks. And they all imprint on each other. So in the end Jeffrey got like, a family. Not the one he was born with but, y'know, I think it was a good one. It looked like a good one."

Tony's mouth feels a little dry. Harley's not looking at any of them, his hand shoved inside the gauntlet, but Thor has his head bowed and a smile on his too-handsome face, and Natasha and Clint are holding hands behind Harley's chair. Sam is looking right at Tony with a kind of pride in his expression, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. Sam always looks at him like he's got expectations for Tony to live up to and for reasons unknown Tony always really wants to, whatever they are. Bruce has his arms crossed over his chest, lips quirked up at the corners, while Bucky leans back into the arm Steve has resting on the back of his chair and Steve tenderly strokes the short hair at the nape of Bucky's neck, gaze roaming over the lot of them fondly. 

"That's really sweet," Natasha tells Harley, when the silence has dragged out a little too long.

"Yeah," Tony deadpans. "Cool story, bro."

Harley frowns, trying to tug the gauntlet off his fist. It comes off with an awful groan and clatters to the floor, one of the fingers skittering underneath Thor's chair. Tony closes his eyes, long-suffering, as Harley winces.

"Oops."

 

_end_

**Author's Note:**

> This was completely based on a real life story my very dear friend told me about her cousin and the (illegal) Mallard that was a class pet, named after him, that he got to keep, took home, and ended up taking to an animal sanctuary. Misfit duck families is a true thing, everyone. The world is a great place.


End file.
